


Drowning

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All through his life, Erik Lensherr has been drowning. Once upon a time, there was a man who could save him... but not even Charles Xavier could keep him safe forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).



It was no secret that when they had met, Charles had saved him from drowning. That had been perfectly literal, when he was still completely absorbed in that quest to destroy all of those who had made him, at the ultimate cost of his own life. He had not given any thought, after all, to what would happen when that war was over, when the hatred which had driven him for his entire life was finally put to rest - or as much to rest as such things could ever be - and his purpose was complete. Perhaps he would have faded away, or perhaps he would have expired in a blaze of glory as the last of his own exterminations was complete. Would there have been a more fitting victory over them than to take out with one blow the last of their kind, and the greatest of the weapons they had been so proud to create? 

He had believed himself alone for so long... and then to discover, at the frustration of what should have been his greatest triumph, that he was not the lonely, monstrous creation of a twisted psychopath that he had believed himself to be. It had been a shock to the system, left him unable to resist as Charles had helped him from the water, offered him this new life, this new future which he could not quite comprehend.

At first, there had been three of them, which had quickly been revealed to be four, when Charles had accidentally outed the poor doctor upon their arrival at the base that was meant to be their home.

It was certainly the case that, much like Charles, Erik had nothing to hide about his mutation - it was easy to blend in. But despite that, he could understand so much better than Charles ever could, what it was like to feel like a monster, to be pushed out, ostracised, rejected for something outside of your control. And he had long ago resolved never to be ashamed of any part of himself again. 

It seemed sad that Raven and Hank both felt that they had to hide, but it was Raven he found himself worrying about more. It wasn't deliberate on Charles' part, of that he was sure, but... it seemed wrong for him to judge the woman he had adopted as his sister by the norms of a society to which they didn't belong. It made him uncomfortable, almost angry. The norms of society could be changed, and when they were wrong, it was wrong to accept them and to judge others. That way lay a history which should never be repeated. It felt almost as if it was weak, to change oneself, to attempt to change or conceal intrinsic qualities which defined one as an individual for the sake of other's approval. 

He had almost left, walked away from it all for reasons that even now he was not quite sure of. His entire world had shifted in such a short space of time and it had left him wrong footed, confused, even, but... the drive to destroy those who had created him, who had made him a monster, tortured and destroyed, reconstructed him according to their will, their whims was still there. He was not truly a part of what they had here, surely, yes, he was one of them, but... they were normal, in comparison, well adjusted. They had something resembling families, friends... and he had only the mad quest for a monster's revenge. He had taken Shaw's file, and set out to finish what had been started long before.

Charles had been waiting, of course. He was a telepath, he knew exactly what it was Erik was doing, even if it had not been - much as it frustrated Erik to admit it - an entirely predictable thing to do. The man had even joked about that, about how Erik travelled constantly, always in pursuit of vengeance, how he never remained long in the same place, had nowhere and nothing to anchor him... but he could have been cruel, and he was not. He was honest, but it was a brutal honesty, all the same. He might not have hidden anything about himself, but Erik his his past, hid it almost obsessively, even as it drove his every action. It was his weak point, what made him vulnerable, and he refused to be vulnerable ever again. And Charles had brought it all back. he could have thrown it in his face, but he didn't. Instead, he simply reminded Erik that... yet again, Shaw was once again all but unassailable, surrounded by friends, comrades... and Erik was on his own, except he didn't have to be. This was his chance to finally be something more than what they had reduced him to when he had been nothing more than a child. 

Charles had promised he could help him. Erik wasn't sure what to make of that, and his gut instinct was to reject it. He didn't need help. He never needed help. And then Charles had brought it back up again, the same way he did everything - gently.

"You needed my help last night."

He had. He had been drowning. He had been drowning in the ocean, drowning in hatred, and desperation, and a fear he had not been able to dismiss since childhood and now... now he was drowning all over again, in memories he could not dismiss, which were dragged back to the surface again, and again... by the tattoo on his forearm, the indelible mark which was the only superficial symbol of what had happened to him, what he had been made. 

"Shaw's got friends. You could do with some."

And wasn't that true... he was alone, he was always alone, and fighting a monster with many heads... but there were those now who would stand by his side, a whole new race, a new species of which he could be a part, /was/ a part. It was a chance to be part of something more than simply a one man vendetta. It was a chance to become everything they had tried to make him, but to turn their dream into a nightmare, to twist everything they had intended for him to the opposite, to fight for the other side and use his powers to destroy them. Choice, after all, was the greatest power of all, and it was something they had never offered him, but which Charles gave him at every step, without question, understanding that it could not be pushed.

He had stayed, he wasn't entirely sure why, but he had stayed. It was hard to get his head around the idea that he wasn't alone anymore, but there was no choice but to give them a chance. For the first time, it felt like there were people who deserved to be let in. He had joked with them, helped them, and... found that there were those who would back him up. The CIA had wanted to go in all guns blazing, but they had agreed that instead, if there were truly a new species, they deserved the respect of being discovered by their own kind. It was a respect he wished he had been shown, but which he now had the chance to extend to others. 

In some ways, being part of a team was harder than being alone. It forced him to confront the part of himself that made him different, had set him apart and now left him united with these fellow outcasts. It made him examine what it was that made him different, that made all of them different. When he was a child, experience had taught him that difference was not something to be proud of. Difference had cost him his mother, his father, everything he had once held dear as only a child could. And then, difference had given him the ability to pursue those who had taken it from him. Being surrounded by those gifted like he was brought those memories back, time after time. 

It was the rage, the hatred, which had got him through, all this time... but even then, at the most important, most potentially fulfilling moment of his life, it had not been enough. He had nearly died, nearly drowned... and then Charles had presented him with an alternative, shown him the strength which could be found at the place between rage and serenity, a calm so complete he had not felt it in longer than he could remember... until Charles had proved that he still had it in him, dragged up from the sea of memories which swirled around him a precious moment he had not known he still had, saved him again from drowning in frustration at his own weakness by showing him the strength he had forgotten. 

Charles had thrown back the veil which cruelty and necessity had drawn over the man he had once had the potential to be, but then, Charles had always been able to see more in anyone than they had been able to see in themselves. He had found strength and skill, and drive in so many who had believed themselves to be nothing... and he had seen a person in a being of pain and hatred, anchoring him by touches, and words in that soft, gentle voice, pulling him again from the weight which had held him down since childhood, been slowly drowning him day by day, hour by hour since the day his mother's dying words had echoed in his ears. 

Erik had known he had been drowning when they met. He hadn't realised he had been slowly drowning all his life, until Charles showed him how much more there was to him that they had not taken, that he had not allowed himself to see.

Charles had saved him time, and time again... but when it came to it, there was one time, and only one, when Charles could not do enough, and it was that time Erik Lensherr drowned, and only Magneto survived. 

He had been drowning again, drowning in the memories, in the hatred, in the depressing inevitability of the rejection of their talents, their abilities... he had been drunk on triumph, the final release of victory, the breaking of the chains which bound him to the past, and yet those shadows would never stop following him. The actions of men who were 'only following orders', and the fear which drove those who gave the orders to wipe out anything and anyone which disturbed their natural order, running scared from those who truly were a superior race had governed the course of his entire life, but now he was on the other side of the coin... and there was an inescapable conclusion. It might perhaps be delayed, but it would come, and triumph would be theirs, it would have to be... but his concentration had been split, shared between the attack in the skies and on the ground, and that last deflection had gone awry.

His brother had gone, the friend who he had been certain would stand by him through everything, who truly understood... had turned from him, and on that desolate beach, surrounded by the wreckage of lives past and now long over. Erik Lensherr drowned in grief, in loss which had stalked him all his life... and Magneto walked away. Erik Lensherr was dead, but then, he never should have lived past his teens. Magneto was nothing if not adept at suppressing memories he could not face, much like the man he had once been. He had a new reason to live now, a new anchor, even if he could never quite blank out the face of the man who had made him who he was. 

It was not Shaw who woke him, screaming in his sleep, now, not his touch, or the cool of metal ghosting over his skin, which left him writhing, disturbed more than anyone could soothe, but rather his own dear Professor Xavier. During the day, Magneto pursued the superiority he was finally owed... but during the night, what was left of Erik Lensherr mourned for the friend he had lost forever, the friend to whom he owed everything. He had drowned so many times... but no longer was there anyone to pull him back. He was lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, I was aiming to do an advent calendar of fics this year, but I took the weekend off at the beginning of the month to recover from NaNoWriMo, and the emotional crisis I had at the end of November, so now I'm playing catch up. I hope to get caught up in the next few days.
> 
> I decided to combine the advent calendar idea with the fact that I owe the very lovely and incredibly patient flightinflame about a million fics. Or, you know, at least 21, which would be a belated birthday present. So consider this those fics with interest. All will be dedicated to her, and I'll try to incorporate the prompts she gave me back in May, although I'm still aiming for a Christmas theme. Most are OC and so can't be found here, but fanfic is crossposted here from deviantart.


End file.
